Ending Destinies
by KayDrew
Summary: What would happen if Merlin, Arthur and the gang went to the future one last time? What would happen of someone wamts to stay in the future? What of there was love amd families omvolved? Story related to 21st Centriry, but can be read on its own. Please, r&r. Written by Numb3sfan & me.
1. Chapter 1: Magic

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The weather was average - neither too hot or too cold, only a few splatters of little clouds, and a mild breeze. His surroundings were average, too. There were cows to the left, a wheat field to the right, and right ahead was the pasture of flowers and herbs, which is what he needed.

With his bag open, Merlin was picking sprigs of rosemary and mint for the physician. Arthur didn't need him right then and so he was helping the old man out. The warlock often did that when he could spare a moment. It reminded him of when he was younger and Merlin liked that.

As he dutifully worked, he noticed that things were different. The air was too still it almost crackled with anticipation. Merlin heard no animal sounds too. That was wrong.

Suddenly, he heard a spell and then a fireball flew towards him (his jacket had been singed from that attack). "Why run, little boy," shouted a man. "You can't win. We will get you!"

"We," questioned Merlin. The we made him panic. Who could Gilli be working with?

"Come now, Merlin? Can't you guess," mocked another voice. This was a woman speaking. It was not any woman though.

"Morgana," hissed Merlin as he had run back to the safety of Camelot. He had to go and warn Arthur that his half-sister was near the castle and in attack were flying at him as he ran – birds, more fireballs, lightning – and animals appeared out of nowhere (spiders and snakes). It was scary.

"I can't believe you side with the enemy! He hates our kind and will do anything to stop us. He, like his father, will massacre us and we will be gone. I will not let that happen," Gilli shouted. "I should never have listened to you. Oh, what a fool."

"And I have shown him the way," Morgana said with a smug tone. When Merlin glanced over his shoulder at her, he saw the smug look in here yes. She also wore a pleased smirk on her face.

Angry tears fell down Merlin's face as he raced through woods and to the safety of Camelot. The angry shouts of the wizard Gilli and sorceress Morgana surrounded him making it hard to figure out where exactly they were coming from. He cried because he felt betrayed. He had given the boy a chance; years ago, to prove himself and to prove that he could use magic for good and not self-gain. But, no, the man had let Merlin down.

It had been years since he had seen Gilli, but in that time it was apparent that the wizard had grown to hate Merlin. The wizard also seemed to feel Merlin had betrayed wizard kind because Gilli was now trying to kill him. Morgana got to him, Merlin found himself thinking.

Racing into the throne room, he stood there panting and staring at Arthur, Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan, Leon, and Percival. He jumped as the door banged closed.

"Merlin! I told you, you weren't needed! Did you hit your head while out and now you forgot the instructions," demanded the new Ling as he drummed his fingers on the map in front of him.

The warlock was out of breath. He couldn't speak and so he shook his head. No, he hadn't forgotten. No, he hadn't fallen and hit his head.

"Well, then, what is it? Can't you see I am busy," barked Arthur. "Tell me or do you want sent to the stocks?"

Merlin's chest was no longer burning. He could get a proper lungful of air in. "Morgana," he gasped. This confused the whole group. Their bewilderment showed on everyone's faces.

Before he could say anything else, the doors were flown open. Turning, Merlin saw Gilli and Morgana. Both were smiling as they chanted a spell The whole room was engulfed in a bright, white light.


	2. Chapter 2: Fireworks

It was pitch black and Marty Mysak couldn't see a thing. Not only was it a new Moon tonight (thus no light), it was cloudy. He couldn't tell if he was still airborne or if he was plummeting towards the ground below. That was kind of scary and made Marty flail his arms in hopes to grab ahold of something, anything. Of course it didn't work.

Glancing down, Marty realized his body was about ready to meet the ground. "Oh, crap," he thought. Instinctively, the man clasped his hands behind his head in vein hopes of protecting his skull. "Why didn't I stay home?"

Marty felt idiotic for coming on this camping trip with Brad and the other guys on the force. He had felt like something bad was going to happen and sure enough, it was. Gavin had brought a huge box of fireworks and set them all off for Guy Fox Day. Instead of a gorgeous display, it had exploded and everyone had gone flying.

As his body made contact with the ground, he gasped as all of the air was knocked out of him. Marty squeezed his closed and then stood up. Wavering on the spot, he checked himself over. There were no broken bones, he didn't feel any blood oozing from a wound. While he had a headache from the hit, it wasn't bad. Squinting in the darkness, he saw that some of his sweatshirt was scorched, but it wasn't bad.

"Brad!" Marty called as he headed off in the direction of what he hoped was his camp. "Gavin! Leo! Lance! Eli! Percy! Answer me."

As he walked through the forest, he almost tripped on a rock. He caught himself in time. Standing there, he ran a finger over the stones "Cool," whispered Marty as he felt the dragon carving. Looking closer, he realized he'd walked right into a collapsed ruin. There were no walls left standing; it was just the foundation.

"Guys, where are you," Marty called again.

Bradley groaned and opened his eyes, forcing himself to sit up. "I'm gonna kill em'," he murmured to himself, "I'm gonna kill em'." He had recently gotten back to the UK after having moved to the United States to start a new job working for the FBI; certainly a step up from his previous job as a police officer. He had completed all the training and had gotten assigned to the FBI's BAU headquarters down in Quantico, Virginia and after a little bit he had decided to use up all of the vacation time he had left; 3 months. It was either take it or lose it.

Getting together with Marty and the guys to set off some fireworks seemed like a good idea at the time, now though he was deeply regretting it. Gavin and his fireworks! Picking himself up off of the ground, Bradley dusted himself off, cursing a little when he saw the singes on his favorite grey hoodie.

Picking a direction he started walking. "Marty! Leo! Percy! Lance! Gavin! Eli! Can anyone hear me?!" he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth to make the sound carry farther. It wasn't long before he literally stumbled in to Percy and Leo, who were dusting off an angry Eli.

"Where's my gun? I'm going to shoot him!" Eli declared.

Bradley smirked a little. "You are going to have to beat me to it!" he replied back.

"Hey Brad, you alright, mate?" Percy asked, shining his small keychain flashlight on Bradley.

"Few bruises, but I think my hoodie took the most damage," He said with a shrug. He then asked if the others were okay and after receiving nods from all of them, they began to walk again.

Marty kept calling the guys until he heard the group. "Who put Gavin charge of the fireworks," he asked, wiping off his face with his hands. He stuck his hands in his pocket and sighed a little.

"Thank god! I didn't lose my billfold in that little explosion," Marty said. "It's got important stuff in there."

_Yeah, really important things like my quids and ID and that letter_, the man thought. The only reason he had agreed to go on this trip was the letter and the news it held.

"You guys all right," he asked. They were all standing, so that was a good thing. "Nothing's broken, right? No one's deaf from the noise?"

"We're fine," Bradley replied. "But, Gavin's not going to be when we find him!"

"Me too, I mean, I'm fine," Marty said. "Maybe we should hear Gavin out before clobbering him? He surely didn't know that would happen…"

He could tell everyone was pissed. Marty sure wasn't happy about the impromptu flying lesson, but the young man was relieved to be alive (oh, how big of a difference 8 years can make). Maybe now was a good of time as any to tell them his news. Maybe it would lessen the blow Gavin ill surely get when he showed up.

Marty wasn't sure how to tell this group. He had been keeping the interviews and tryouts to himself. He didn't want to get anyone excited until he got the acceptance letter.

"Guys," Marty said, shifting from foot to foot. "Uh, I got into art's school. Oxford's school of Art, to be exact, with full scholarship. Only 26 students each year get into the art school." Marty didn't know how he did it. He didn't even think his work was that good. But, the university had seen differently and they were oddly inspired by his story.

Everyone paused, looking at Marty uncertainly for the briefest of moments. It was Percy who was the first to move; gently clapping Marty on the back and telling him congratulations. Eli and Leo were next; each giving the man a handshake and congratulations, as well.

Marty found himself holding his breath. He didn't know how they would react. He would be leaving them, but Brad had already done that a few years ago, so maybe it would be all right. As they started to congratulate him, he blushed until his face looked like it had an unhealthy sunburn – thankfully, it was dark and no one could see it. "Thanks," he said.

Bradley was up last. He smiled and offered Marty a handshake as well. "Congratulations Marty; always hoped that you would go back to school," He replied.

Marty nodded as he took Bradley's hand and shook it. "Thanks, I think" he said, feeling a little unsure of himself and how Bradley really felt. "It was time. It's something I wanted and needed to do. I'm not that person anymore."

"When do you start school Marty?" Leo asked, taking his own flashlight out of his pocket and shining it around so they could get their bearings back.

"January 12th," Marty replied with a small smile. It was clear to everyone that he was excited about it; the smile on his face reminded them all of a kid on Christmas Day. "But, I go a week before to meet with my professors and get my supplies. It's pretty rigorous from what I hear."

"Just remember to take care of yourself; I won't be there all the time now," Bradley jokingly warned.

"Yes mummy," he jested back. It felt forced. Marty raised his eyebrows. "I'll be fine. I'm not the same bloke I was four years ago. I'm stronger. Besides, you're living across the Pond anyway."

Bradley raised an eyebrow at that statement. "You make it sound like a bad thing!" he said.

Martin shook his head. "It's not," he said. "It's just you're not here and it's made me become self-sufficient and independent. I've got coping skills now. That's a good thing."

"Gavin, I swear if you do that again…!" Lance warned, jerking his arm away from the man who helped him to stand up, "How old were those fireworks?!" he demanded to know.

"I just got them," he said, dusting himself off and studying Lance. There was a sparkle in his eyes.

Lance rolled his eyes and looked to him, "Yeah, and my Aunt Bertha's a toaster oven!" he shot back.

"But, they may not have been legal. I was supposed to detonate them all Got them last week and thought it would be fun to do I all at once. I watched a Youtube video on how to do it properly. I guess, there was more gun powder then I thought." Gavin said.

"May not have been legal?! Ya think?!" Lance shot back. He looked up at the dark sky and shook his head. Of all the idiots in the world Gavin was the worst!

"All I know is that they were imported from Asia. I've dealt with foreign fireworks before and they always worked," Gavin said. "We'll find out soon enough if they were legal or not. The investigation's pending."

Gavin grinned at the other man. "You have to admit, it was a great show until they blew up," Gavin remarked. "And you didn't die or get hurt. It's all in good fun, mate. Let's go find the others."

As they walked Lance commented, "I hope you are a fast runner." He could definitely see the others angrily chasing after the man as soon as they caught sight of him.

"Of course I am. I've run from many a pub in my life. Why would I need to run? I bet the others loved it!" Gavin exclaimed.

"Don't be too sure!" Lance countered.

It didn't take them long to find the others; spying them stopping by an abandoned ruin that almost seemed out of place. There wasn't much left; no walls, no engravings that could have possibly said what the place was. All that was left besides various sized stones and boulders was a large yet smooth foundation that seemed to span for miles in all directions. Whatever had been there before had certainly been huge.

"I see we all survived!" Gavin said cheekily to the others. Everyone had flashlights out and was shining them on the ruins, but when Gavin spoke them all gave him un amused glares.

"Yeah, we did," remarked Marty as he looked around the ruins. "I didn't know there were ruins here." He ran a finger alone the stone. It was cold and smooth under his touch. "What do you think of this place?"

He stuffed his hands into his pocket as he strode around the place. "This place feels familiar," remarked Marty "Anyone get that feeling?"

Lance nodded a little. He got that feeling too. It was weird. "Why don't we split up," the man suggested.

"Sounds fun!" Gavin said, following Lancelot and Percy.

Marty watched as Leo and Ely wandered off. He looked over at Brad. "I guess, it's just us," he said. "So, which way should we go?"

Bradley didn't answer. Instead he moved towards the right almost as if he were drawn in that direction somehow. Marty was right; the place seemed so eerily familiar as if they all had been there before but they couldn't have been; could they?

"This place was big…too big to be a simple house. Plus it had to be old." Bradley sighed. "Why does it feel like we've been here before?!" He was getting a little frustrated because he couldn't understand why every fiber of his being was saying this was familiar territory.

"It's a fortress of some sort, or a castle," Marty said, looking around. He liked architecture and spent a lot of his weekends driving around to various ruins, which he drew. "It's really old. There are no nails or mortar. The stones are sitting on top of each other."

He shook his head. "I don't know," the young man replied. "There was an etching on the perimeter. It was of a dragon. It seemed important. I just don't know how."

He jumped a little when a small beep and pop emanated from his right jacket pocket. Reaching in he pulled out a small, handheld Geiger counter that was on and obviously working.

"Why do you have a Geiger counter in your pocket?" Marty asked, eying the meter uncertainly.

"Something I used during training down in Quantico. Forgot I still had it." Bradley muttered in reply; studying the readings. Whatever was giving off radiation wasn't too terribly dangerous; the readings were elevated, but not so much that the area was unsafe.

"How can you forget you had a Geiger counter," asked the other man with a raise of the eyebrow. "Haven't you changed clothes since you went through training?"

"Clothes yes, jacket no. This is my favorite jacket." Bradley said, fingering his black leather jacket for a moment.

"You've been working for the FBI for a year. You haven't washed your jacket in that long? I think I need to be your roommate again," Marty jested. While he'd lived with Bradley, after the initial withdrawals and recovery he had gotten into a habit of cleaning, doing laundry, and cooking. Bradley's clothes had never been cleaner, wrinkle-free, and stainless.

Kneeling down Bradley began to wipe away the dirt, grime and the grass that had grown through the cracks until he found something that made him stop. It was a fairly large stone block; cracked and looking like it would fall apart any moment, but on its surface there was carved a beautiful lion on what looked like a shield.

"I think this is a tomb of some sort," Brad said, trying to pry the stone away.

Marty grabbed a pencil and paper. He pressed the paper against the rock and wiped the graphite. Soon, an image began to show. It was a number. "503 A.D.," Marty read.

Holding the paper, he saw a flash – a bright gold that turned to crimson. His brain seemed to fight the image and he screamed. Dropping the paper, Marty held his head. He was getting a migraine – the first bad one in three years.

Hearing Marty scream, Bradley immediately released the stone which chose that moment to crumble away from the entrance it had been hiding. "Are you okay?" Brad asked, very worried about his friend.

Marty nodded his head even though it was still continuing to pound. He didn't want Bradley's pity or worry; the man sure did know how to play the worried nursemaid sometimes and the dark haired man didn't want that.

Taking his flashlight Bradley shone it down in to the darkness. There were no steps leading down. The path was steep but not steep enough where one had to worry about getting hurt.

"So…whatever is in this tomb is from 503 A.D. That…really narrows things down," Bradley said; the last part being said in a sarcastic manner.

"It's a royal tomb," Marty muttered as he squinted at the architecture. They wouldn't have this rich of carving in a commoners place. A villager would not have had this sort of burial. No way." He shook his head.

"Do you feel up to exploring?" he asked his friend.

"Sure. We better be careful and not disturb too many things. Archeologists will want it intact and as undisturbed as possible," he said, wandering around. In the semi-darkness, his toe caught on something, tripping him.

"Oomph," Marty muttered as he scampered over to it. Brushing his fingers along it, he frowned. "Why did someone stick a sword in the ground? Or is it buried? Shine a light over here."

Immediately Bradley shone his flashlight in the direction of Martin's voice. Once the beam of light hit the sword it almost seemed to shine as if parts of the sword were made of pure gold!

"What…the hell?" Bradley murmured, kneeling down to inspect the weapon. It was half buried in the dirt and rocks but after a few minutes it was unburied enough to be pulled out.

The sword was definitely shiny and in great shape. It was old but still looked like it was fit for royalty. "Have you ever seen anything like this? It's an incredible find!" Bradley said, still eying the sword.

Martin looked at the blade. "Careful with it," he muttered. He ran a finger along the hilt. This blade was amazing. When asked he had seen anything quite like it, Marty shook his head. "No, I haven't. We should leave it and report this place to authorities. We're in a 1,500 year old tomb that doesn't seem to have been explored. We shouldn't be here. Something feels off about this place."

He stood and walked away from the sword. Looking into the sarcophagus, he stared at the two people within it. Both wore crowns – even in the darkness, the stones and gilding on them shined. One more intricate than the other.

"I think we're in a King and Queen's tomb. There's bodies in the casket and they're wearing crowns," Marty said.

He chewed on his fingernail and looked back at the sword. "Maybe this is a movie set. Maybe this stuff isn't historical," he suggested. "That sword is too shiny to be old…"

Arthur stood up and walked over to the caskets to get his own good look at the bodies. There wasn't much except what looked to be a bit of dull chain mail on the on the left most skeleton. Both however; as Marty had said, were wearing crowns. In fact the crowns were the only thing on the two skeletons that suggested they both could be royal.

"I don't think this is a movie set." Arthur said, placing his Geiger counter on top of the left most casket; the needle jerked over to the right side, suggesting a substantial amount of radiation was coming from the skeleton.

"This is where the radiation is coming from; these two bodies. The levels are high; not lethal but still dangerous enough that we can't touch anything in the caskets," Bradley said.

He shone his flashlight around; the beam landing on a shield that was leaning up against the stone wall. The shield was all black but had a gold dragon taking flight right in the middle of it.

Marty stepped away from the caskets. He sure didn't want to get radiation poisoning or something like that. "Why are they radioactive if they are from 500 AD," asked the dark-haired man.

"I've seen that mark before..." Bradley muttered.

"Yeah? Where," inquired Marty. "I saw it outside the building. It was carved on a stone from the foundation."

"Really? Didn't notice it there, but I saw the mark before in a Virginia library book about Arthurian Legend fables. It was a mark that represented...what was it...?" Bradley paused, trying to remember what the book said, "The...Pendragon house, that was it. I thought the stories weren't true; there was no credible evidence to support the existence of Camelot, King Arthur and all the rest but this..."

"It was right after Gavin set off the fireworks and we went flying in different directions," Marty said. He wasn't sure if Bradley heard him or not. The guy seemed deep in thought.

At the mention of the Arthurian legends, Marty shrugged. "Stories have to come from somewhere, right," he asked with a raise of an eyebrow.

He gestured to the entire burial chamber, "This place is the first genuine piece of evidence that lends credibility to the entire story! If this is actually the burial place of King Arthur then that huge foundation...it could be what's left of the actual castle of Camelot. Of course I'm just speculating here...bodies from the 6'th century...they wouldn't be radioactive like these are but all of this looks real; too real to be fake but I think you are right...archeologists should take a look at this place."

"We gotta go, Brad. Archaeologists won't want our fingerprints all over the place. I already fell over that sword. We don't need to do any more damage. Besides, the light could be destroying the artifacts," Marty said. In truth, it didn't feel right being here. He felt like he didn't belong and like he was intruding. It made him itch being here, much like when he wanted a hit of drugs. "Let's just go find the others."

"Right." Bradley said with a small nod of his head. The place was a marvelous find but he too didn't feel right about being there. It wasn't a creepy feeling like he was disturbing a burial ground or something but it was a feeling as if he had seen something that he wasn't meant to see.  
"Let's go." he said.


	3. Three Months

The three months passed in a blur. Marty had spent most of it preparing for school or at his part time job at a little bookstore, but he did spend a lot of tie with Bradley (although probably not as much time as Bradley would've wanted). Things felt different and awkward between the two of them. It wasn't the same. Maybe it was because Brad was living in the US now and didn't get to talk all that often. Maybe it was because they were just growing up. He didn't know. It made him a little sad, but he didn't dwell on it. He couldn't.

But, today was the day school started (unofficially). It was time for him to move into his dorm and he had enlisted Bradley's help. The other guys – Gavin, Lance, Eli, and Leo – all had to work. It gave him a chance to be alone, kind of. The school was swarming with students unpacking and going to meet teachers.

"This is brilliant. I can't wait to get started," Marty exclaimed as he carried the last box in and wiped the sweat from his brow. Sitting on a box, he sighed and looked around the small space. "Do you want to grab a cuppa and some food before I go meet my professors and get supplies?"

Bradley looked up from where he was standing, picking at a piece of packaging tape that had come loose from one of the many boxes in the room.

"Sure. Oh...here, almost forgot," he said, reaching over and grabbing up a brown paper bag. Bradley took out a mahogany box that was the size of a paint kit and actually that was exactly what it was; a paint and art kit. It had brushes, pencils, pens, finger paints and other such pieces of equipment. On the top of the box was a hand crafted rendering of Camelot; at least one person's depiction of it, but truth be told it was rather accurate.

"Thought you could use it," Bradley said as he handed the box over to his friend.

Marty took it and examined the box. He opened it carefully and examined the supplies. These were fine tools that probably cost a fortune. For a moment, Marty felt like handing it back. He didn't feel like he deserved such a gift. But, he didn't. He couldn't.

"Thanks," Marty said, closing the box and putting it under his arm as the two left his dorm room. "This is really beautiful. I'll be the envy of all the art students." The boy flashed Bradley a grin and raised his eyebrows. "I bet I'll create some masterpieces with these brushes."

Marty stopped talking when he saw a pretty girl with honey blond curls and a round face. She was chatting with a girl that had flame-red hair and a violin case strapped to her back and ripped jeans covering her legs and a loose sweatshirt covering the rest. Dressed in a white tank-top tunic and jeans, this blonde-haired girl threw back her head and laughed at whatever red-haired girl was saying. So enthralled with the smiling beauty, he tripped over a park bench.

Marty cleared his throat and straightened his shirt. "So, um, should we go?" he asked. The young man's voice had gone high and squeaky.

Bradley brought a curled left hand to cover his mouth in an attempt not to snicker. He had seen that coming a mile away! A small part of him had almost tried to snap Marty out of it before the young man had hit the bench, but a stronger part of him wanted to see the boy make himself look foolish. "You are a regular Gene Kelly buddy," Bradley said as he shook his friend's shoulder's a little to hopefully help Marty snap back to reality.

Marty's face turned bright red. He was always tripping and stumbling over his feet as well as other things. Truthfully, it was a wonder he managed to keep his motorcycle up with such ease. "Two left feet," was all Marty could manage. His throat had gone quite dry.

He glanced back at the girl Marty had been looking at only to find her staring back at the dark haired man, an amused smile on her face. "Don't look now, but I think your girlfriend is looking at you!"

"Oh no, shite. She saw that, didn't she?" Marty asked, suddenly looking a bit panicked. Marty felt like disappearing as he glanced over at the girl. She indeed was looking right at them.

He watched as the blonde-haired girl came over to her. "Hi, I'm Nora… Nora Davis, are you all right," she asked. "You took quite the tumble."

"Erm, um, yeah, I'm good," Marty said. "I was just showing my friend here a bit of my improv skit."

"So, you're an actor," Nora asked, a little dubiously.

"Huh? Oh, no, I'm an artist," he stammered.

"So Mr. Ruskin, what's your name," she replied (Ruskin being the art department at Oxford).

"Marty… Martin Mysak. This is Bradley Pendleton," he replied.

"It was nice meeting you two. I'll see you later. I'll show you around, Marty, all right," she told him. Taking out a scrap of paper, Nora wrote down her mobile number and hand it to her. "I got to go. Still have loads to move in. Ta!"

Marty put the number in his pocket as he watched her leave. He wasn't sure what to think. "So, uh, should we go," asked the boy.


End file.
